Astray
by Butterfly Prospekt
Summary: Kiran doesn't have much choice when she's told to steal a dragon egg. What comes of it is much worse than she ever expected ... and much better at the same time. This involves Murtagh but is NOT a Murtagh/OC pairing. Romance may come but it will not be between them. *on indefinite hiatus as of now*
1. Impossibilities

_**Author's Note:** This will, hopefully, turn into a full-length Eragon story. I wrote this first chapter just now, hope it turned out halfway decent. Like everyone says, reviews are appreciated, and they create the next chapter. xD The more reviews I get, the more motivated I'll be to continue._

_Disclaimer – the canon characters, places, and ideas belong to the brilliant Christopher Paolini._

_I know this is short, but all the chapters won't be this way. The rest will be longer._

* * *

**Chapter One ~ Impossibilities**

A faint red streak was painted across the sky, and Kiran couldn't help but stop to look at it. The indicator that the sunset was coming, that night was coming – and that she had to be back. Her brother would be waiting for her. And he was never pleased when she was late.

Teirm had lulled into a slower pace at the end of the workday, readying itself for rest. She watched the fishermen as they hauled in their nets, carefully making sure the bulge in her coat did not show. If she was caught with what she'd stolen – fresh apples, still crisp – who knew what they would do to her?

Kiran stumbled along the streets, her feet aching. The soles of her shoes were worn thin; she'd be in need of a new pair soon. Of course, Adair would make her steal them. Why pay, he always asked her, when you could get it for free? And she always listened, because he was her brother, and he was frightening when he was angry.

She saw a group of children huddling around the window to a shop. At first, she paid them no mind. But then she heard their whispers. "Is it true?" one asked. "Maybe it will hatch for me."

Trying to be as discreet as she could, Kiran leaned over to see what they were looking at. It was a poster, an announcement.

"On the day after the full moon of this month, ambassadors from Ellesmera on behalf of Queen Arya shall bring four dragon eggs to the city, to see if they might hatch for a child of Teirm."

Adair would not let her touch them. She was never allowed to bring herself into attention, he said so often. It would blow their cover. If she was recognizable, she was a danger. Thieves couldn't afford to let danger live. He'd have to kill her, he said, if she exposed them.

So she shook off any dreams of being there to try her luck and hurried back to Adair.

Their place was an old, abandoned warehouse that no one had inhabited for as long as Kiran could remember. It had been theirs for the same amount of time, and it miraculously had never been discovered. Adair was good at making sure they were never found; he had to be, else-wise he never would have made it to his twentieth year like he had. Kiran trusted him, because he was all she had. She chose to ignore everything he did to her, his cruel words and all the times he'd gotten angry and hit her. Of course, she had made him angry, and so she supposed it was her fault.

Adair was waiting for her inside the warehouse. He was standing up, and his arms were crossed. "Did you get them?" he asked, meaning the apples. She nodded.

"Yes," she said. She carefully took the bundle out of her coat and placed it on a box in front of him. She thought to say nothing more, but then couldn't help herself. "Adair, is it true? Are they really bringing the eggs here?"

Kiran expected him to snap at her and tell her that it was none of her concern, but to her surprise, he didn't. He evaluated her for a moment, then said, "It was written on those posters, wasn't it? It is by all means true."

She glanced at him with expectant eyes, almost hoping he would allow her to go with the rest of the children and teens and see if a dragon would hatch for her, but the look in his eyes scared her. It was distant, the look he assumed when he was plotting something.

"And that is why," Adair continued before she could inquire of him further, "you are going out tonight, Kiran."

She frowned at her brother. She went out every night, per orders, to steal one thing or another. It was routine. She couldn't see how that related to the dragon eggs, but she didn't speak up, not wanting to make her brother angry.

"Tonight is the full moon," he reminded her, solemn. "The eggs are coming tonight. Michael told me where they are keeping them. The stone room that is attached to the keep of the castle; you know it. Michael also says that there will be guards stationed by the doors. Four of them. But that should be no trouble to you; you've outsmarted six before, have you not?"

Kiran's blood turned cold when she realized what Adair was implying. She opened her mouth to say something, but was silenced with a glare.

"Is that a protest I see on your lips?" her brother asked coldly. He started towards her, smiling in a way that was not at all happy. She backed up against the wall.

Shaking her head furiously, she said, "No, sir."

Why did she even bother to call him 'sir?' It was a title of respect, and she did not respect him. She was afraid of him, and that was all. He was her brother, he was supposed to protect her – that was what all the other girls' brothers did. Yet he threatened her. He made her do his dirty work. And she did not dare stand up to him. He was not that much older than her, either; six years surely could not make that much of a difference. She only wished her mother had not died giving birth, or that her father had not decided to get drunk at a bar because of it and insult someone and get killed. She wished she had someone other than Adair, someone who might actually listen to her.

"Never mind that," Adair told her. "Just know that you will go to those eggs, and you will get me one. And if you so much as ask me why, you'll be quite sorry. Is that understood?"

Kiran looked away from him as she nodded so he couldn't see the spite in her eyes. Hidden by the sleeves of her coat, her hands clenched into fists.

Adair continued. "However, you're in luck, little sister. I'll tell you why anyway. There's a trader staying here, Michael says, who will pay great money for that egg. He'll give us the money, and we'll give him the egg, and then he'll be the one those elves track. We'll be rich."

"But he'll lead them back to us," Kiran said. She could not help herself but point out the flaw.

Eyes narrowed, Adair said, "No, he won't. He won't know it was us. He and Michael have been communicating through notes. They have not seen each other in person. They have arranged for the egg to be left at a certain spot. All we have to do is give Michael a quarter of the money."

She was tired of hearing out Michael, her brother's one and only friend who served as their eyes and ears. But she didn't bother telling Adair this – the time she'd tried, he'd slapped her and told her Michael was worth ten times as much as her. Though there were many comebacks to that statement in her head, she hadn't voiced any of them, for fear that he'd hurt her worse.

Kiran wanted to argue him. It would almost be worth taking his wrath. She didn't want to get caught. It was a dragon egg. It would be heavily guarded. She had no chance. But he was looking so tall that she did not say anything.

"You leave as soon as the darkness is complete," he told her.


	2. The Keep

_**A/N:**__ Thank you to the people that reviewed. xD I swear, I am completely sincere. It means a lot. ^^_

_But first, to address the question of romance/pairings. I honestly hadn't thought much about Kiran's romantic life. But we may see a little Murtagh/Nasuada, simply because I love that pairing, even more than Eragon/Arya. Though Eragon's quite the character, I've always leaned towards Murtagh a bit more; I find him more complex and interesting. Eragon might make an appearance in the story, but it won't be major. Sorry to disappoint Eragon fans. And, if Kiran thinks it's her time to fall in love, then it most likely will be with an OC. I think that pretty much sums up the romance. Most of the time I let the story decide where it wants to go, and it will be no different with this one._

_About the chicken. I was in the process of writing this chapter when I saw that. If you want a chicken you shall get a chicken ... somewhere in the story. Be on the lookout. :P I know you said 'not really,' but ... chickens are chickens, so I thought I might as well include one. /cough_

_The next chapter is in progress already but I'll wait til I have a few reviews to post it._

_As always, I do not own anything. Christopher Paolini is lucky enough to say that he does. _

* * *

**Chapter Two ~ The Keep**

Darkness was complete.

Usually, Kiran welcomed the moment when everything was black, when she could be hidden and did not have to show herself or talk to people. But today, she dreaded it, because she knew what it meant. Adair was sending her out to steal something that she would not be able to steal.

He might as well be sending me to kill myself, she thought, mostly as a joke, but then shivered, wondering if that really was his intention. Surely it wasn't! He was her brother.

And a terrible brother at that.

Adair came over to her then, to wake her if she'd fallen asleep. He should have known that she never could fall asleep with the knowledge that something like this was coming. She rose before he could shake or kick her, looking him in the eye. She wondered if it would be the last time she'd see him.

As Kiran started to the door, Adair stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "Have an apple," he said abruptly, his gruff voice seeming embarrassed. Then he turned and fled to the corner, not looking at her.

Kiran looked at the apples and then to him, and decided it was safe. She took an apple and ate it, then exited the warehouse and walked to her doom.

She had never known order; Adair had been six when she was born and their parents died, and by then, he'd figured out how thieving worked. He'd taught her that, and what little of letters he knew, and from then on, that was their job. That was how they survived. She didn't think she'd ever spent an honest-earned cent in her life. It was something most thieves would boast about, but it made her uncomfortable.

If there was one thing about thieving that Kiran was good at, it was her ability to blend in. Even without any sort of camouflage, she could find the shadows and move with them, staying mostly concealed. So, darkness was her friend. Her ally. She knew it well, she could speak with it – and yet, that day, it intimidated her.

Kiran knew nighttime's Teirm like the back of her hand, better than even daytime's Teirm. She could walk through it with her eyes closed and hands tied behind her back and still not be seen. There were advantages to never leaving the city. Sometimes she wished she could live elsewhere, but then always squashed those dreams by reminding herself that she would have to learn a whole new city, and she didn't fancy that.

As she made her way to the castle, the central point of the city, she tried not to dwell on the task at hand too much. But, inevitably, she did. Surely the eggs would all be heavily guarded; four guards seemed a bit ... minimal for something as important an valuable as dragon eggs. Maybe there were enchantments. And what would happen to her then, if they caught her? What if she got stuck inside the room, and they found her? What would happen to Adair?

_Shut up,_ Kiran thought to herself angrily.

And so she concentrated on other, seemingly unimportant, things as she walked. Like how she wished that stupid dog would stop howling, or how she wondered where that foul smell was coming from but didn't really want to know. And sooner than she'd expected, she was at the castle.

A great stone wall surrounded it, protecting it from attacks. The keep was at the center, as it was in all castles; the hardest part to get to, where the lords and ladies stayed for protection. And, apparently, dragon eggs. This keep had a stone room attached to it that they mainly used to store very important objects. It seemed only fitting that the eggs would be brought there.

The main gate to the castle was guarded by two sentinels, one that was fat and looked as if he was about to fall asleep. The other was young, and bored. They would be easy to get past, Kiran decided. It would be those on the inside that she had to worry about.

Adair had sent her into the castle before to get this or that, but never anything as significant as what she had been tasked with stealing now. Her stomach was crawling with nervousness. There was absolutely no way that this would work ... no chance ... none.

Kiran pressed herself against the castle wall, moving slowly and as quietly as she could. She made little sound, having practiced this sort of thing for years. The younger sentinel was occupying himself with scrubbing at something on his armor, and the fat one was getting quite close to snoring. This would be no trouble.

She got to the edge of the wall, flattening herself, and waiting for the perfect moment to slip past the two of them. When the younger one looked up from his armor, she jerked her head back. She needed a diversion. It wouldn't have to be too complex; these two seemed like they could be easily fooled. So she merely picked a large rock up from the ground, and threw it as far as she could without exposing herself. The younger sentinel glanced in its direction, tightened his hold on his spear, and assumed a surly demeanor. The other one snored.

Kiran took her chance and darted past them, once again using the shadows for cover. She watched as the younger guard swore and leaned his spear against the wall. He was tired, she could see, and had no interest in his job.

But that was of no consequence to her; she was already past him. The great gate loomed ahead of her, not nearly as intimidating as it had been the first time. She knew the way around it – the spikes on the bottom left just enough space between the ground and them for her to slide through if she got down on her stomach. Anyone larger or clumsier than she was couldn't have pulled it off – even Adair, as agile as he was, was a grown man, and he couldn't fit if he tried. But she was only fourteen, and deprived of food most of the time, and so she had no trouble getting underneath it. The only had part was being quiet. Fortunately, the younger guard was beginning to nod off, too, and so he didn't pay any attention to much. She slid under the gate as carefully and quietly as she could, then proceeded on with equal caution.

In the daytime, the castle forum would have been busy, packed with servants and nobles alike getting things done. But now, in the dark, it was strangely silent. Occasionally, there was a soft snort or stamp from the stables, but the rest was silent.

Any of the doors that led to a tower or room had at least two guards posted there, depending on importance. As long as Kiran stayed to the shadows, they should be far enough away that she could get to the keep without being noticed. So she stuck to the wall, letting the darkness hide her. Stealing the egg, she realized, certainly wouldn't have worked in daylight.

When she had to cross bare ground without shadow to protect her, she ran as light-footed as she could, knowing if she could only get across without being noticed that it would all go well.

And well it all did go ... until the keep.

When she saw the great stone structure, her heart sped up. Never before had one of Adair's theft exploits led her here, to the utmost heart of the castle. The entire city, for that matter. She saw the room attached to it, and, horrified, she saw the guards.

There were four of them, yes, and if they had been normal it would not have alarmed her nearly as much.

But they were not normal.

As she looked closer, even in the dark, she knew they were not ordinary. They were thin, lithe-looking, with pointed features. And they seemed to have the ability that no human guards had: to stand completely still, unmoving, and not fiddling with their equipment.

Kiran wasn't unable to stop herself from gasping as it hit her what they were. Elves.

The poster had said the eggs were coming on behalf of Queen Arya from Ellesmera. She never should have been so stupid as to assume that there would be normal guards. Nothing like this ever was so easy. Why hadn't Adair seen this?

Because he'd been distracted. He'd lived by stealing all his life, and though it had been enough to get by, it had never been enough to have any of the luxuries that some had. Now, there was his chance, and he hadn't bothered to do any further inspection like he normally would have for something this serious. He merely listened to everything Michael said.

If Michael had been there at the moment, Kiran would have strangled him.

Elves had an acute sense of hearing, she knew. And vision. And everything, she told herself with a soft curse. They were fast, they were agile, and they would surely find her in some way.

_Damn you, Adair._

This was impossible.

But Kiran knew what Adair would say to that, and so she slowly walked in a large circle around the stone room, taking in every inch of it. There was a sole window at the back, high up, and small. She could get into the room if she wanted through that way, if she did it all in one spontaneous motion. But the sound of shattering glass would alert the elves, and they would come.

None of the elves were going to fall asleep or let themselves be fooled by throwing rocks. The door was out of the question, and the window was the only other opening, except through the castle. That would be a longer way, and even more dangerous – being caught in the castle, where the lords slept, was a terrible crime.

She could go back, she supposed. And face the wrath of her brother, who might very well kill her anyway. God knew he'd gotten near enough to it many times.

Or she could try her luck getting into the room, which she would, and then face the elves. Maybe they would be kind enough to grant her a quick death.

Kiran weighed fear of the elves against fear of Adair, and Adair was a heavier fright. He was her own flesh-and-blood, and she did not want to die by his hand. Even if he did not kill her, he would hurt her.

She could run away, too, and not go back to him, but she had nowhere to go and no idea how to get there. She would die of the elements.

Death seemed so ... imminent.

She swore quietly again, just for good measure, and decided to take the window. At least then, she'd get a glimpse of the dragon eggs.

Kiran made it to the wall of the room, quietly pulling herself up to the ledge of the window. She took a deep breath, and she pushed herself forward.

She landed in the room with an earsplitting noise of shattering glass.

She heard the elves move, and so she ran to the only thing that could give her protection in the room – the table, which three eggs rested upon. She was about to turn it over to use as a shield, but the eggs entranced her.

One was yellow, blinding, seemingly full of sunlight. Another was shimmering silver, perfectly smooth-looking. The last was violet, of the bright kind, like the color the sky turned just before it was dark out.

Kiran couldn't help herself. She reached out and touched the purple one, softly, with the tip of her fingers.

Then the door burst open, and the four elves were in the room. The noise was so loud that it took her mind off everything else – the eggs, escaping, anything.

Two had swords, which they drew. One had a bow, and the last a spear. And every weapon was trained on her.

But, suddenly, the elves were staring at something behind her, their mouths open, faltering in their calm yet threatening demeanor for the first time.

Kiran allowed herself a glance back at what they were looking at, and cursed one last time.

That was not supposed to happen!


	3. Decisions

_**A/N:** Thank y'all for the reviews. Since you were lovely and posted them so fast, I'll be nice and update quickly. ^^ The chapter was already written so ... so I can. xD_

_And last time I checked, Christopher Paolini owns all. Sigh._

* * *

**Chapter Three ~ Decisions**

Out of all the ways this could have gone wrong, out of everything that could have happened –and Kiran knew she'd gone through every possible explanation– she had never thought this would even be possible.

The purple egg, the one she'd touched, was rocking. A keening, pecking sound was coming from inside of it. She could hear the little creature there work at it, trying to crack its shell furiously. As surprised and angry as she was, Kiran couldn't help but stare at it, transfixed.

The elven guards were equally confused. None of them made a move to hurt her, simply let their weapons hang weakly at their sides. They would have skewered her, she knew, had the egg not begun to move. But it was hatching for her ... and they could not kill the one the dragon had chosen.

Chosen.

Chosen to be what, exactly?

What did they call them? Riders? Whatever it was, Kiran wanted nothing to do with them. It was almost better living a nice, nondescript life with Adair, his temper and all. She didn't know anything about dragons, just that the last time the Rider of one had been on the throne, he had been terrible. He had been overthrown by another Rider, supposedly, when Kiran was three. She couldn't remember, so all she had to go by were stories. And after a decade had passed, you couldn't rely on word of mouth much; everything became diluted.

So Kiran just stared dimly into the violet egg, not really seeing it.

Then the elf nearest towards her, a tall blond man, spoke. "What were you doing here, girl?"

She hated being addressed so bluntly, but she knew she had no choice but to answer. "I was going to steal one of the eggs," she admitted slowly. The truth couldn't put her in a worse position than she was already in, and it was obvious anyway.

The elf shook his head, but Kiran couldn't tell what he was thinking, because his face was emotionless. "You must have seen the poster, then, so why did you not wait until tomorrow?"

"I had no choice."

"Why is that?" The elf's brow furrowed. He sheathed his sword.

Kiran could not look at him. She was afraid her eyes would betray her. "No reason," she said. As much as she hated Adair, she would not betray him. No one truly deserved to die. It was not his fault, entirely, either; he had not been the one to carry out the act.

Before the elf had time to press her any further, there was a loud crack and the egg shell split open.

Kiran gasped.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting, honestly; before, she just had been thinking about not caring about the dragons or their Riders. She hadn't thought much about what would happen to the dragon itself.

It was a little violet thing, the same color as its shell. It looked directly at her with penetrating, tiny eyes and stretched out one of its wings. Underneath the residue the egg had left, Kiran could see that its scales were hard and shiny.

The elf across from her, the sole female, said abruptly, "Go on. Touch her. She hatched for you." Her voice was surprisingly gentle.

But the smallest out of the elves held up a hand. "No. We cannot let a dragon go to a thief. She cannot be rewarded for the crime she has committed."

Rewarded? Kiran wanted to laugh.

"All the same," the female elf sighed, "what will become of the dragon? She has hatched for this girl, and she will go with no one else. You will not harm the fate of this dragon to punish the girl. And that is final." The elf turned her piercing eyes on Kiran. "Touch her, I said."

Kiran did not move.

"Do it." That was the blond one.

So she slowly stretched out her hand, and saw that it was shaking. She made herself breathe.

She couldn't do it. Her hand stopped inches from the tiny dragon baby.

The thing was still, watching her expectantly.

What had the elves said? That it could not, or would not, survive without her? All the same, she could not be burdened with this animal.

But it had saved her from the elves, and being killed or arrested. She refuse it just because it would be a hassle.

Kiran closed her eyes and brushed her fingertips on the dragon's scales.

There was a searing pain. It was almost hot, nearly burning her. She jumped back, and would have hit the blond elf had he not steadied her.

When she opened her eyes to look at her hand, just to see if the dragon really had burned her, there was a white circle on her palm.

She stared at it dumbly.

A hiss brought her back to her surroundings. The purple dragon had coiled itself and was giving its most menacing glare to the short elf. It made her smile, even though it was only a small smile.

_Mrrrrt._

Kiran stepped back sharply. It was a strange sound, and she had not really heard it. It was more of a sound in her mind, and she couldn't explain exactly how she'd heard it.

"She is speaking to you," the female elf said solemnly.

The blond elf added, "Yes, and you ought to name her."

It was too much for Kiran to take. "I'm not ready for–"

The short elf nodded, as if confirming something. "This is what I meant," he said to the other elves.

The other one, who had blended into the background for the most part and not said anything, now spoke. "Hold your tongue, Inar."

"All the same–"

The female elf sighed. "Stop this. Now we must decide what is to be done." She glanced at Kiran. "Riders are trained in the Hadarac Desert, by Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragon Saphira Bjartskular. They would prepare you for whatever lies ahead. However, because you came about this unconventionally, there is the question of how we will punish you."

"Take her to the lord," the short elf, Inar, said. "Or bring her to the queen."

Kiran was not ready for this. She backed away, unsure of what to say or do. No. She would have to expose Adair, something she could never do. And she certainly did not want to go to a desert to learn from some legendary Rider who she knew nothing about. There was no one else in the Hadarac, no one to save her if he turned out to be worse than the elves thought.

She would have to run.

The dragon, sensing her distress, spat at the elves. She did not breath fire, just a faint trail of smoke. She would not be able to help.

But Kiran could not take care of her. It was best to leave her with the elves who knew what they were doing.

So, on a spur-of-the-moment decision, Kiran turn and ran.

The elves had left the door open, and hadn't bothered to close it when they came in. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, tripping over rocks and twigs and everything in sight. She did not bother about being discreet, just getting out, and finally she was at the gate. She paused to catch her breath.

_No!_

The word was spoken in her mind with such force that it hurt. She turned to see a little form pulling itself across the dirt towards her.

Even without the light of the room, she could see that it was purple.

The dragon.

It had spoken. It was not fifteen minutes old, and yet it had said something to her. Kiran had no idea what to say.

Resigned, she was still, and the dragon scrambled over to her and up her leg, hanging onto the fabric of her tunic.

Kiran sighed.

She had a companion.

Now there was nothing left to hinder her, and so she slid under the gate and ran.

This time, even harder, because she could see the elves following her. They were fast. They would catch her. But she knew Teirm better than they did, and so she kept running, away, with only one place in her mind. Out.

She wound her way through the city, aware of the weight of the dragon that was clinging to her, and not caring. She had to get out, before they could catch her. She could not afford to stop for anything, not even Adair. She was leaving, this she knew, and nothing was going to stop her.

Finally she saw the edge of Teirm, and she bounded toward it using all of her strength. Then she was behind the trees that were there, and they offered her some protection. She stopped to breathe, gulping in mouthfuls of air, and it still wasn't enough. She leaned over and panted.

In her mind, the dragon made a sort of humming sound.

Kiran looked back to see the elves. They were only fifty yards away from her at most. She ran once more.

But her foot caught on the root of an old growth tree, and she fell, her head hitting the ground hard, even though she stuck out her hands to break the fall.

The elves would catch her, because she could not get up.

Close to her, she heard the voice of the blond elf. "Leave her be. This shall be her punishment; she will receive no help from us. Let her fend for herself."

"But the dragon–" the female's voice began.

"The dragon should have known what she was doing when she hatched for a thief."

Kiran was exhausted.

She lay there in her crumpled state, the dragon on top of her, and cried.


	4. Unwanted

_**A/N:**__ Two updates in one day? Whut? O.o Yeah, I know. Buuuut, I was writing it, and the past chapter had had a review, so. Here is chapter four. Murtagh will soon be making his appearance (just remember, though he'll be major, there will be no romance between him and Kiran, so don't even ask). Anyhoo, here it is._

_Because I feel like I have to say this every time, Christopher Paolini still owns the entire universe of Eragon._

* * *

**Chapter Four ~ Unwanted**

Kiran didn't know when she feel asleep, just that when she awoke, the dragon was staring at her with wide eyes.  
It squeaked at her.

Ignoring it, Kiran surveyed the area around her. She could see the outline of the city through the trees, but she did not dare go back. The elves would not be so forgiving if they caught her in Teirm again, that much she knew. The sky was a pale blue of morning, and a cool breeze hung in the air.

She had no blanket, no change of clothes, no food or water. She had nothing but a dragon that was gazing at her stupidly.

"Go away," she told it, glaring.

The thing did not budge.

Kiran didn't say anything more and slowly rose, looking around for anything remotely edible. Those berries on the edge of the forest ... she _thought_ Adair had her pick some one time. She couldn't be sure, but there was nothing else to eat, so she took a couple and tentatively put them in her mouth. She recognized the taste, slightly tart, and, relieved, swallowed them.

Behind her, she heard a sickening crunch and a squeal.

She turned to see the dragon with a dead mouse in its tiny jaws.

Rarely had Kiran ever had to kill anything; most of the time when they had meat, it had already been butchered when she'd stolen it. She knew those who weren't as fortunate had to kill the animals, but she didn't like to think about it. The mouse looked sad in the violet creature's mouth, and she found herself unable to look at it and turned away.

What had she gotten herself into? She could hardly feed herself, let alone another animal, especially a meat-eater that would be getting continually bigger and bigger.

_Absolute shit, that's what,_ she thought.

She couldn't live like this. And the dragon! It had been the one to hatch. It was its own fault, not hers. She could leave, because the dragon was to blame for all of this.

Kiran glanced back at it, glad to see that it was done with the mouse.

It stared up at her with a face that she would have deemd cute had she not been so determined to hate it. In truth, it wasn't a terrible looking animal. It was sleek, and its color was quite pretty. But Kiran made herself focus on its flaws.

"I don't want any of this," she told the dragon, somehow knowing it could understand her. "And I don't want you."

She tore off a strip of her tunic, then, and began picking berries furiously. Once she had enough to last her at least a couple days, she took one last look at the dragon and walked away.

She didn't want it.

She didn't care what happened to it.

The stupid purple thing could die, if it so pleased. It was no matter to her.

Kiran heard the leaves rustle, and turned to see that the thing was following her, almost scared. In anger, she scooped up the nearest rocks and threw them at the creature, barely missing it. Frightened, the dragon yelped and scampered away. Now, she knew, it would leave her alone.

**xxxxxx**

Kiran kept going, but for how long, she had no idea. She also hadn't thought much about where she was going, just as far away from Teirm as she could. There had to be civilization somewhere north of Teirm. Eventually, she would have to run into someone. Something. She could forget about the dragon and pretend that she was normal. She could find someplace to live near a town, and act like nothing had ever happened. Only she would be alone - not that Adair had offered much company in the first place.

She went on, until her legs were sore and the sun was beginning to set. It had only been one day; she couldn't give up hope yet.

**xxxxxx**

Once in a while, Murtagh decided to go near other life.

For the most part, he kept to himself. He lived alone, if you didn't count Thorn. And he liked it that way. Sometimes, he almost wished he could go back to Uru'baen and see how Nasuada was holding up, or fly out to the Hadarac where Eragon was training the new riders. But he never did. The closest thing he got to that was dropping by small cities once in a while, if something of interest was happening.

He had been wandering with Thorn when he'd found out that Teirm was supposedly having its children touch a few eggs to see if any new Riders could come from there. He wanted to see it for himself. While he left Thorn out to his own devices, he went into the city wearing nondescript attire. No one recognized him anymore.

In the end, there were only two eggs, which Murtagh found odd. He could have sworn there were three.

One of them hatched, a bright yellow one, for a boy that couldn't have been more than nine or ten. He looked delighted.

The few elves that were there took him off to explain things. The silver egg remained motionless.

When it was over, he started out of the city, only to be stopped by his dragon's mind-voice yelling his name.

_Murtagh!_

_What?_ he thought back, a little irrated. He didn't have to speak so loud.

_You'd better come and see this._

Sighing, Murtagh hurried up his pace a little bit, following the mind-link to where Thorn was.

He found his red dragon where he'd left him, in a clearing that he filled up quite easily with his size. He snorted in a greeting.

Then there was a high-pitched chirp, a sound that Murtagh was sure his huge dragon was incapable of making.

Perched on top of one of Thorn's front paws was a tiny purple dragon.

Murtagh swore.


	5. Found

_**A/N:**__ Ooh, yay, reviews. ^^ Thanks guys. 3 Sorry this is a bit late, I was busy. But this chapter was by far the most fun to write, here you go. Review, pretty please, like always._

_And, I don't think Christopher Paolini has, erm, given me ownership of the series or anything, so, until then, he's in charge. Cough._

_Next chapter is already written. I'll update when more reviews come in.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Five ~ Found**

"What the hell is this?" Murtagh demanded.

_ I think you know,_ Thorn told him in mind-speak, turning the full force of one of his eyes on him. Sometimes, he was just as annoying as he was helpful, Murtagh thought. And he had learned his lesson about arguing with the dragon, who invariably won.

He decided to switch tactics. "How did you find it? Where is its mother – or its Rider, for that matter? How long has it been alone?" There was no way to tell if it was wild or if it had hatched for someone without asking it, and it hadn't let him in. It had, apparently, let Thorn in, because he was looking amused, and it left Murtagh feeling a bit disgruntled.

The little dragon was, in all honesty, cute, as foreign as the word seemed in his mind. It had been a long time since he'd seen a young dragon this close. He remembered when Thorn had hatched for him years and years ago, and the feeling of elation, despite the cold atmosphere of Galbatorix's halls. And he remembered the searing pain of the gedwey ignasia, but that it almost felt good, because he had been ready for it and he knew what it meant. But Thorn had not stayed small for a long time, not with all the spells and enchantments and energy of the Eldunari that Galbatorix had laced him with.

So this little violet creature was quite the novelty to him. It looked up at him with an expression that was almost eager, almost hopeful.

Thorn rumbled, bringing Murtagh out of his thougths._ I heard her. And she says there was a girl, a Rider, but the girl left – she threw rocks at her. She's been on her own since noon._ There was an edge to Thorn's mind-voice, almost angry, almost bitter. Resentful. Murtagh couldn't help but share his annoyance; what Rider would leave their dragon, especially one this young? He certainly wouldn't; from the moment he had met Thorn, he had cared about him, and had not so much as let him out of his sight until he was big enough to defend himself.

_ I suppose ... I suppose she was not ready for it,_ Thorn mused, mainly to placate him. _After all, this dragon is young; they have not had enough time to form a bond._

_Then why did she touch the egg?_ Murtagh asked in his head, suddenly even angrier than Thorn.

_ Perhaps she had no choice._

Murtagh glanced from the little dragon, sitting ever so placidly on Thorn's paw and then back to Thorn's face. _You're going to make us find her Rider, aren't you?_ he asked, almost wary.

_It's not as if we have anything better to do._

**xxxxxx**

Kiran had created a makeshift bed for herself out of grass and leaves. It was surprisingly comfortable for something outdoors, and the forest itself wasn't that cold. She'd managed to fall asleep, and, unbeknownst to her, pale dawn was barely visible from behind the skyline the trees created. Then a dark-haired man stood over her and rolled her over, and she woke. The man had her hand in his, and he was studying her palm. When he saw the silver mark the dragon had left on her, his brown furrowed.

She yanked her hand away from him, scrambling back into a tree trunk as if it could protect her. Her eyes searched him, afraid. He was slightly dirty, ruffled. She did not want to think about what he would do to her; she had never been the best at fighting. Her main line of defense had been running, but here, there was nowhere to run.

The man looked like he was in his mid-twenties physically, but his face held a quality that told her his looks were probably deceiving. His hair was shaggy and hung almost to his chin. His returning gaze was accusing and angry, if she was correct. What had she done.

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, and hauled her to her feet. He was very close to her, and he looked very unhappy with her. She tried to squirm away, but his grip was like iron. She would have screamed, except there was no one that could help her.

"You think," he spat, "that you can just leave a young dragon in the middle of the forest after it has left the gedwey ignasia on you?"

Kiran stared at him.

The dragon.

So it had come back to haunt her, the stupid thing.

"I hate it," she told the man, forgetting he was a total stranger. "I never want to see it again. I shouldn't have touched the egg."

"Damn right you shouldn't have," he muttered, and let go of her. "But now the dragon is yours, and yours to keep safe. You cannot shy away."

Kiran scowled. "What authority do you have over me?" she asked. "You cannot order me around. I have no idea who you are, and you come here and try to tell me what to do. Why don't you keep the dragon, if you care about it so much?" She turned to walk away.

Before she had gotten very far, he had grabbed her again, turned her to face him. And then he had hit her, full across the face, slapped her. He was strong, and the blow hurt. She gasped, stumbling backwards, holding the spot where his hand had connected with her skin, and giving him the evil eye.

"And then you hit me," she said, adding emphasis to her previous statement.

He wasn't fazed. He didn't even look sorry for hurting her. He simply went on with his rant. "You will take your dragon, and you will learn how to communicate with her, and you will listen to me," he told her in a voice that permitted no argument.

The only person that Kiran did not argue with was Adair, and this was not Adair. "You say so," she growled, and wrenched herself free.

"Thorn!" she heard the man call, and ignored the word. She had no idea what it meant anyway.

But there, in front of her, was a dragon, and it was not little like hers had been.

It was huge, so large there was no getting around it, and it was frightening and red. She took a step back, glancing over at the man again. "You're a Rider?" she asked, as it was a disease.

He looked smug. "Yes."

"Then take the dragon and leave me alone."

His dragon stepped forward and pushed her with its nose, sending her sprawling forward. She landed in the dirt, and tasted it in her mouth, gritty and cold.

There was a squeaking sound.

The little violet dragon –hers, she supposed grudgingly– was next to her, batting at her with one sharp-clawed paw.

"Go away," Kiran told it, sounding for all the world, including herself, like a whining child.

The man came over to her and pulled her into a standing position. He picked up the dragon and placed it awkwardly in her unsuspecting arms, and she couldn't bring herself to drop it. He forced her to look at him, saying, "You need to learn, and there is only one who can teach you. He is Eragon Shadeslayer." He said the name almost ruefully. "I will bring you to him; that is all I can do for you."

Kiran's hands clenched into fists, but she was careful not to pinch the dragon she was holding. "I will not go to him, to some stranger, in the middle of the desert."

"Yet you're talking to me, some stranger, in the middle of a forest." The man sounded almost amused.

She responded with a glare. "Who are you, anyway?"

"That's of no consequence to you."

Kiran sighed. She was getting nowhere. She needed to drop this facade of strength and attitude. Maybe pleading would get her her way. "Please, I beg of you, don't make me go to him. I'll do anything for you – just don't send me to the desert."

"It is where you must go."

"No!" she cried, her eyes frantically looking to the red dragon, like he would support her. He merely regarded her with one large black eye. "You could teach me," she supplied quickly. "You're a Rider, I could learn from you, just please don't make me go to the desert to that man."

"'That man' is a renowned Rider."

Kiran bit her lip. "I don't care. I've never met him, and he's far away, and he probably has others to teach. You don't."

"Thank you kindly." Sarcasm colored the man's voice.

Instead of arguing her case further, she said a simple, "Please." He walked over to Thorn. "Come here, and stop pleading. And arguing. My answer is no, and that is final."


	6. The Verdict

_**A/N:**__ New chapter, enjoy! Sorry it's been a while._

_But first, to address a couple of the issues mentioned in reviews._

_Yes, I'm not that good with keeping everything in the feel of the time period. Michael's name might be changed, just because it sounds stupid now that you point it out. _

_And, as for the Kiran/Murtagh idea ... I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen. I couldn't do it; it feels just ... wrong to me. He's much older than her, and I think he still has feelings for Nasuada, whether or not he acknowledges them. Kiran is young and immature, and she just wouldn't fit with him._

_Yep ... CP wrote the Inheritance Cycle, not me._

* * *

**Chapter Six ~ The Verdict**

The girl had finally given up and had slipped into a kind of disgruntled silence. For that, Murtagh was glad. He didn't think he could handle much more of her constant pleading and arguing. He just wanted peace and quiet, and, after what seemed like hours, he was getting it.

As he glanced over at her, she looked up and gave him a cold stare. She would not even speak to him when he asked her a question.

Then again, he had not been completely open with her. He had not told her where they were going, because she would see it as quite pointless; in all honesty, he was heading towards a lake to get water, even though there were countless streams in the forest and he could have easily used the ancient language to obtain some. And he was going on foot, knowing full well that Thorn could have flown them in a tenth of the time. But he had a motive that he could not share with this naive young girl – he was stalling.

Half of Murtagh ... no, not even half. A very small part of him wanted to listen to her and agree to teach her. He could not be so cruel as to send her somewhere she adamantly didn't want to go, could he? But the rest of him, the rational side, told him to send her anyway. He was no teacher. He had no patience. He would have no idea where to start with her, and he couldn't hardly handle her just to get her to come with him, let alone study the ways of Riders. Most of all, he did not need another responsibility, and he did not want to put up with her.

Murtagh wished there was someone he could ask. He wished he had a mentor. He'd been alive for over thirty years, and yet he was trapped in the likeness of someone twenty, and he felt like he had the maturity level of a twenty-year-old still. What had he gained in the past eleven years, living secluded and without purpose? Nothing. He was not ready to help anyone, not when he needed help himself.

Thorn, who was flying above them, sensed his stress. _What are you going to do with the girl?_ he asked gently in his mind.

_I do not know_, he told his dragon. It was the truth.

There was no one to turn to, no one to ask. The one person he would have trusted died years before Thorn had hatched. The only other teacher he'd had just so happened to also be dead, and it was not as if Murtagh would have asked him had he still been breathing. Because Galbatorix, the dead king, had been a terrible teacher, and he would not inflict such cruel torture on anyone. Even this insolent, head-strong girl.

Murtagh sighed; he needed to take his mind off of what was gone and past. Once more, he looked to the girl. "What is your name?" he inquired, trying to sound as light as he could.

She regarded him for a moment, and then her mouth twisted up into a rueful yet amused smile. "That's of no consequence to you."

In the depths of his head where she could not hear him, Murtagh said a quite nasty reply and smiled himself.

**xxxxxx**

When they finally reached the lake –Murtagh didn't know which one it was; it had been a long time since he'd had to bother with trivial things like the names of nature– night had fallen. The girl was looking tired and worn out, but she did not show it. It was almost a wonder to him that she had not run off; she was obviously fit enough, and could have made it back to the town if she really wanted to. But she stayed close by him, dissatisfied or not. She was still ignoring her little dragon, leaving it for Thorn to carry.

Murtagh made a show of collecting water from the lake, just to pretend there was actually a point in coming there. He was very careful to not let her see him pour out the water that was already in his waterskin, and he felt a bit guilty through the whole charade. Nonetheless, he could not have her thinking he was some useless hermit. Which, in essence, was what he had become; but she did not need to know it.

"I think we've done enough travelling today," he told her as he sat down next to her. She had been absentmindedly picking at the grass. "We'll stop here for the night." He was speaking to her as if he knew her, when, really, he didn't at all, but he ignored the fact. He wanted to seem friendly, so that she might actually speak to him. Whether he would agree to let her stay or bring her to Eragon, they would have a while to spend together yet, and he didn't want it to be in complete silence.

Her response was a nod.

"Will you tell me your name now?" In all honesty, if he'd been in her position, Murtagh would have refused. He knew how harsh he'd been in the morning, shaking her and hitting her and yelling in her face, and she had no reason to trust him. It made him frustrated, but not at her – at himself, for acting so rash.

She did not meet his eyes, just stared off into the distance. For a moment he thought she would not answer him, but eventually, she said, "My name is Kiran." Still not looking at him, she tacked on hopefully, "Will you tell me _your_ name now?"

Murtagh considered it for a second. She had opened up to him ... but, then again, she was not Murtagh Kingkiller, the half-brother of Eragon Shadeslayer. She was a peasant girl from a small fishing town. So, he said, "No."

Kiran pointedly did not say anything, and he almost wanted to tell her his name. Instead, he just went over to where Thorn had settled and laid against his side.

_That girl is impossible,_ he declared.

Thorn merely chuckled.

**xxxxxx**

The realization had come to Murtagh late at night; he'd suddenly woken with the idea and found how ignorant he'd been to not have thought of it earlier. He rose quietly, mindful of the fact that he did not want to wake Kiran. She could not hear this, or see it, for that matter.

He was a Rider. He was versed in the ancient language. He was perfectly capable of doing a scrying spell. And if there was one person in the world that could tell him what to do with the girl, it was his half-brother.

_Honestly, Murtagh,_ he scolded himself again mentally, and kneeled by the edge of the lake. As softly as he could, he murmured the words for a scrying spell over the water, hoping he'd remembered the pronunciation right. To his relief, the water shifted and glittered for a moment, then showed him what seemed to be white marble. He could just make out the outline of a person that had to be Eragon, covered by the shadow.

The figure seemed startled. As it stepped into a patch of light, it became more defined and Murtagh could see that it was in fact Eragon. He looked confused and tired. "Murtagh?" his voice was thick with exhaustion.

"Eragon." It had been a long time since he had said the name aloud. It felt odd on his tongue.

His half-brother, former ally and then enemy, had the good graces to be polite. "What has you contacting me at this time?"

And so Murtagh explained everything that had happened, from Thorn finding the young dragon to how Kiran had left it. His words came out rushed, because he was frantic for a solution.

"Has she told you any of her history?" Eragon asked. "A Rider that green would have been brought to me directly by the elves."

"No."

Eragon leaned back, seemingly deep in thought. Then understanding appeared to dawn on him, and he said, "The elves told me that one of the eggs they brought to Teirm was stolen, and that the girl ran. They left her, refusing to help her. This Kiran of yours – she is most likely the one."

Murtagh bristled. "She is not 'mine,' Shadeslayer."

"Nonetheless, she is with you. What do you plan to do about her?"

That stopped him in his tracks. "That is what I came to ask you. I should bring her straight to you, but she refuses – she's rude, pushy. I'm afraid I lost my temper with her when I found her, and hit her ... not that she did not deserve it. But she will not listen to me, and has not given up on the idea that she should stay with me and I should teach her." He paused. "I am not ready to teach anyone, let alone a girl like her."

"She does not want to come to study here? She will not back down?"

"That is what I said."

Eragon smiled. "Maybe it would do you good to teach someone, Murtagh. If she truly would not come, then I don't believe you ought to make her."

"But – but I am not prepared, or experienced, or patient enough, Eragon. You know that." Then, Murtagh almost forgot that he was the elder here; Eragon seemed to have gained so much more mentally than he had. Maybe that was what happened when one had to teach many new Riders.

"Then it is high time you start. Arya has a race to manage, and she and you are the only other Riders out of training."

"I do not want to train this girl!" Murtagh stated heatedly. "She has been nothing but a nuisance, and–"

He was cut off by the loud sound of a branch cracking. He whipped around to see the girl in question standing, one foot on top of a broken twig. Her lips were slightly parted, and she glared at him. "So your name is Murtagh? You're the Kingkiller?"

Instantly, he was up, to the apparent surprise of Eragon. He grabbed her arm and shook her. "What are you doing?" he hissed, anger boiling inside of him even though he knew he was not being reasonable.

"I heard voices," Kiran mumbled, looking at her feet.

"And how long have you been listening?" he demanded.

Barely above a whisper, she said, "Almost since the start." She shied away from looking at him, just studying the ground. "I am sorry?" Her apology was more of a question.

"You were eavesdropping. Saying that you are sorry is not going to help your cause."

She muttered something he couldn't make out.

Eragon broke the silence that ensued. "Bring her where I can see her, Murtagh."

He complied, roughly pulling her to stand in front of the water where Eragon's image was reflected.

"Hello," the Rider said gently.

Kiran just stared at him, at the water, uncomprehending.

"This is a scrying spell; it is nothing to fear." Eragon grinned. "Murtagh tells me that you do not wish to come to the desert and train."

She did not respond, merely looked at him, resolutely deciding she would not say anything.

Murtagh, becoming annoyed, growled, "Answer him!"

So, reluctant, the girl shook her head.

"And why is that?" Eragon pressed.

Murtagh watched as she chewed on her lip before saying, "It's foreign. Too different." There was a touch of rudeness in her voice, but, luckily for her, Eragon chose to ignore it.

"You propose that Murtagh teach you."

"Yes, sir."

Eragon blew out a long breath. "I don't see anything wrong with that." He gave a meaningful look to Murtagh.

"Very well," Murtagh said, through gritted teeth. He ended the charm without another word, then turned to Kiran.

He gave her his most displeased expression. "I hope you are satisfied," he told her, putting the sarcasm on thick.

But, for the first time, she smiled genuinely. "Oh, I am."

Without thinking, he backhanded her on the side of her head, but not hard. "I do not want to catch you eavesdropping again," he said. "And you can be quite done with all the insolence."

She nodded, but there was something rebellious in her eyes. "Of course."

Why did he not believe her?


	7. Flight

_**A/N:**__ Hello, hello, hello. I'm back to updating more frequently - when I can. School is about to start up again, so I may be a bit slower. Just warning you. Thanks for the reviews, as always._

_Sorry I took so long, by the way. Life has become rather hectic. To be honest, it was the appearance of a rather long review today that made me want to remember this story and want to update - so here is the latest chapter, which I have been working on forever but only just finished._

_I disclaim any credit for the ideas. xD That is the right of Mr. Paolini._

* * *

**Chapter Seven ~ Flight**

Kiran could not make sense of anything, so she gave up even trying.

When she went over the events of the past two days, she couldn't believe them. She'd gone back to sleep after the Kingkiller had accepted her as a student, glad that he had, but still hoping when she awoke it would all be a dream. Now, she was awake, and it was too real for her liking.

They were still on the fringe of the forest, by the lake. The purple dragon -_her_ dragon- was sleeping a few feet from her, and Murtagh a ways off. His dragon, the great red creature, was curled up as tightly as it could, and was still bending trees in the process. Everyone was asleep but her; if she wanted to get away, she could, but at this point, she didn't know the forest well enough. She'd get lost.

If Kiran had her way, she would have gotten the egg, and it would not have hatched. She would have brought it to Adair, and he would have praised her, and then sold it, and then they would live life like royalty. That was how it was supposed to go. But she knew that now, if she ever saw her brother again, he would hate her. He would not give her time to explain what had happened. He would simply have heard that an egg went missing, and known that she'd gone missing with it. He'd assume that she sold it all for herself, and then ran away, leaving him to steal for himself. No, if she ever saw him, he would not welcome her.

So much had been ruined in the last two days. So many dreams destroyed.

Instead of dwelling on what wasn't, Kiran rose, and went to the water. It was a secluded lake, and so she speculated that not many knew of it. That would explain how the water was so clear and fresh looking. She was not afraid to drink it straight from her hands. Out in the forest like this, she would not find anything cleaner.

The day promised to be humid and hot, as it was uncomfortable already. She splashed some of the water on her face, to cool her off and to fully wake her up. There was a groan. The noise had roused Murtagh.

He shifted in the bed he had made up, squinting over at her. She quickly turned around, not wanting to meet his gaze. He would still be angry at her, she knew. After she'd eavesdropped and all but forced him to take her on ... It would be a long time before he forgave her.

She heard him get up and walk over to the lake, to stand a few feet away. He too drank and splashed some water on his face, all the while ignoring her.

_Why did I want him to teach me, again?_ she asked herself, rhetorically.

_Kiiii-ran._

Kiran jumped.

It was her name, but stretched-out, distorted. And it was said in her mind. She whirled around to see her dragon staring up at her expectantly.

_It knows my name_, she marvelled.

_Kiran_, the dragon replied triumphantly.

For a few moments, Kiran just watched the little thing. It began to pull itself towards her with its wings, slowly but surely. All the while, it watched her with its dark, overlarge eyes. She knew she should talk to it, but she did not know what to say. So she started out with something simple. _Hello?_

_Hell-oh._

Again, it said the word with uncertainty. Its mind-voice wavered. Kiran couldn't fathom what else she would say to it, so she lapsed into silence, just thinking, and hoping that the dragon couldn't hear everything that was inside her head. Awkwardly, she stepped around the dragon that was now standing in front of her, and went to mess up her leaf-bed, just for something to do.

When she turned back, Murtagh was regarding her, his expression unreadable. "Were you talking to her?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Your dragon."

So it was female. And it could not just be referred to as an "it." These Riders treated dragons like humans. Kiran wasn't sure whether or not she'd honestly been talking to her dragon, when their conversation had more been thinking. If it could be called a conversation at all. "Uhm." Instead of yes or no, she ended up making a sound that wasn't even a word at all. "I suppose you could say so."

The previous day, she had not been talking to him. She'd been ignoring him at all costs. But he had accepted her, and so she had no reason to hate him any more. She could see his surprise at her openness, and it made her want to laugh.

"You'll need to name her," Murtagh said after a pause.

"I don't have the slightest idea what you name a dragon."

He scowled. "You had better start thinking on it, then."

Kiran changed the subject, not wanting to annoy her new ... teacher ... further. He was her teacher now - that was a strange idea. Teacher. She had never had a true teacher. "Where are we going?"

"I don't see why I should tell you." His avoidance irritated her, but she forgot about it as he walked over to his dragon, poking its side. "Thorn. Up." The dragon moved, and there was an earsplitting crack. Kiran squealed as she saw a tree come crashing to the forest floor. The dragon had broken it.

Murtagh didn't pay any attention to that, and just clambered up onto his dragon's back. "Since she is obviously too small to hold you, Thorn will have to. I don't suppose you'd like him to carry you in his claws, so I'd advise you find a spot on his back where you can be somewhat comfortable."

She stared at him, mouth open.

"You want me to ... to ride him?" She could not wrap her mind around this. Maybe Riders had become more common in the past decade, and maybe she did have a dragon of her own, but she wasn't sure she was ready for the prospect of riding one just yet. "I-"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Unless you have a suggestion on how we can get up the mountain in less than a month." He went to fidgeting with the straps of a saddle on the dragon's back, which Kiran had only just noticed was there. He then pulled himself up and settled into a spot on the dragon that looked like it was meant to be ridden on.

Kiran looked at the rest of the dragon, and couldn't see anywhere else to sit. She was thin enough - too thin, to be honest. She could possibly fit between some of the spines, but it didn't look as if it would be even 'somewhat comfortable,' as Murtagh had put it.

Her life had never been plush, or even pleasing. This couldn't be any worse.

"Get your dragon," Murtagh said, abrupt.

Sighing, she went to wear her dragon was still standing and picked it walked over to the dragon, cradling her own dragon. Carefully, she grabbed onto one of its spines and clambered awkardly onto its back, making sure not to drop the little thing. Her feet slid on the smooth scales, but somehow she managed to not fall off. In the largest gap she could find between the scales, she straddled the red dragon's back. She was thankful that Adair had never made her wear dresses, because it would not have been possible without breeches. Even through the fabric, she could feel the hardness of the scales, which were both rough and slippery at the same time.

Murtagh looked back at her as if to check whether she was situated. He didn't seem to do anything, but the dragon took off.

Kiran was not ready for the rush of air that followed, or the sense of her stomach dropping to the forest floor. She barely held back a scream, just clutched her dragon tighter. It squawked at the pressure and she had to release it.

"Careful," Murtagh yelled back to her.

As her hands gripped the spines as hard as they could, she shouted, "Somehow I thought flying would be more magical."


	8. A Very Dead Girl and a Very Dead Dragon

_**A/N**__: Yay, reviews, thanks guys. I realized I should bring Adair in sometime, so here he is. School is just around the corner, so don't expect an update in the next week. If I do, just let it be a pleasant surprise. xD_

_I'd change Michael's name, but I'm too lazy and plum out of medieval names._

_-insert disclaimer here-_

* * *

**Chapter 8 ~ A Very Dead Girl and a Very Dead Dragon**

Adair had been waiting over a day; far longer than he should have been. He had explicitly told his sister to bring the egg straight back. He knew she had it, because one was gone the day the children touched them. But she had not brought it to him.

_The little traitor!_ he thought. When he got his hands on her again ... She would pay for the full night he spent pacing the warehouse, wondering what had happened to her.

Now, it had been long enough, and he knew what had happened. Kiran had sold the egg herself, kept the money for herself, and ran away from him. After all he'd done for her! All those years ago, when she was just born - he had been under no obligation to take care of her, and yet he had. He had no reason to teach her the ways of thievery, and yet he had. He had come up with this plan. He rightfully deserved some of the money. But his stupid wench of a sister had turned against him.

At that moment, Michael burst through the door.

"Adair! You won't believe this," he said breathlessly.

Adair's eyes narrowed. "What won't I believe?"

"You ought to hear the talk from the castle servants and guards. They swear that the third egg hatched for a girl with fiery hair, and that the elves let her go. Doesn't that sister of yours have red hair?"

Beneath his mask of calm, Adair was surprised. That couldn't be ... His sister was no Rider material. She was weak and submissive. She had never fought a thing in her life. If dragons were as wise as everyone claimed, one would certainly not have hatched for Kiran.

Instead of voicing this, he said, "Gods know thieving would have been easier if that hair of hers wasn't do damn obvious."

"She seemed to fare well enough at it." Michael shrugged. "But - do you think it is her?"

"I don't know," Adair lied.

But he did know. It was just like Kiran to pull a stunt like that. If she had been worth a cent, this would never have happened. He wondered why he had gotten stuck with such a useless sister, when all the girls in Teirm had more sense than her.

"However, I do know that if I see her again, she will be a very dead girl."

**xxxxxx**

At least flying had shut Kiran up.

Murtagh had been worried that her constant complaints would have taken the fun out of flight, even. It had not. Whenever he glanced back at her, she was looking quite green. She's going to have fun when her dragon is full grown, he thought with a grin.

"Have you thought on a name yet?" he called back to her, and she ignored him. Normally that would have annoyed him, but he knew she was feeling sick, and so he let it slide.

_How is being a teacher?_ Thorn asked, sarcasm in his voice. _Master?_ he added, to further irritate his rider.

_I haven't taught her anything yet,_ Murtagh replied. _And don't call me Master. I am nothing of the sort. _

_Yes, Master. _

Murtagh could have hit his head against the wall, had there been a wall on hand.

They flew along in silence for a long while. He made a point of not communicating with Thorn. He just concentrated on the view of the mountain, which was beautiful despite the fact that he'd seen it many times. He hadn't left the mountain and the towns surrounding it in a decade.

When dusk was beginning to show in the sky, they landed in a clearing Murtagh had created many years ago. On the edge of it was a large stone structure he had made, which was somewhere between a house and a small castle. It was nothing fancy, just kept the cold and wet out. While Eragon lived in marble halls, he resided deep in the forest in a stone shack.

He slid off Thorn and watched as Kiran practically fell to the ground. When she walked, it was wobbly. She looked at him for a moment, and then said, "My legs..."

At first he thought she needed to adjust to land again, but then he saw that her breeches were torn in a couple spots, and there he could see raw flesh and a little blood.

"Damn." He had forgotten what happened when one rode a dragon without a saddle. In all honesty, he had never experienced it, because Galbatorix had given him a saddle from the start and told him of the consequences of not using it.

"Sit down," he told her, and she obliged. He walked over to her, and, placing his hands on her legs and ignoring the awkwardness, said, "_Waìse heill_."

The skin of her wounds began to close up, and he stood. "That ought to heal you, for the most part. You'll still hurt a bit."

Kiran rose slowly. "Thank you."

He had no response for that, so he went on. "This is my home, for lack of a more accurate word. I do not really spend much time here, in all honesty. Most of the time, I wander around with Thorn."

_Master speaks truly_, Thorn said, to all of their minds. He threw a sly glance at Murtagh.

"You call me Master again, and you will be a very dead dragon."

Kiran smiled. Then she turned serious, looking confused. "What was that you said, to heal me?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"_Waìse heill,_" he said again, making sure it was clear he did not mean to heal anything, so that the magic did not take effect. "It means, 'Be healed,' in the ancient language. It was the language of everything and everyone, a long time ago. You cannot lie when speaking in it, and now it functions as a kind of ... magic, for lack of a better word."

"The elves speak it, don't they?" the girl wondered, almost bitter.

Murtagh realized it was an opportunity to get some of her story out of her. "Why; what do you know of the elves?"

"Nothing." She scowled at him.

"Take it from me, girl - the first thing you should know about lying is that saying, 'Nothing' is the most obvious lie there is."

Her dragon squeaked.

"And find a name for that thing, by the way."


	9. About Time

_**A/N:**__ Lookit that. I updated. And I so did not, like, overuse a fantasy name generator or anything for this chapter. Ahem. _

_I know it has been all but forever, but school is being a pain in the ass. I saw how long it's been, and I figured you'd rather have a short chapter than wait another week. So I apologize for the lack of length in this. It's less than a thousand words; I'm ashamed, but, I can still blame school._

_I also want to mention that your reviews don't go unnoticed – I may not have the time to respond, but I do read and appreciate them._

_As always, CP is the brilliant one here, not me. _

* * *

**Chapter 9 ~ About Time**

Kiran looked at her dragon. Already it was bigger. It had been tiny when it had hatched for her. Three days later, it had grown half a foot.

_He says you need a name,_ she thought to it, conjuring a mental picture of Murtagh.

The dragon gazed at her with wide, dark violet eyes, like the color of the sky before it was black.

_I've never named anything in my life. _

_Name.._. the dragon hummed.

It was the morning. Pale golden light shone through paneless windows. The previous night, the Kingkiller had shown her around his castle-like home that was more luxe than anything she had ever lived inside. He had been gruff and concise about it, but he did not regard her with the same kind of irritated hate he had when they had first met.

Would she never see Teirm again? Adair?

Not that she really liked her brother, per sé. It just felt so odd without him hounding her every waking moment.

_Name_, the dragon said again.

_Yes, I know. _

Murtagh was not up yet; Kiran was taking this opportunity to look around and see if he had hid anything from her. She had just made it past a small food storeroom, from which she snatched a bit of dried fruit. She didn't even have to think about it - stealing came naturally to her. Like breathing. It was not even wrong, in her mind. It just was.

The dragon had stubbornly followed her since the minute she woke, absentmindedly chirping words and fragments of sentences. Kiran ignored her for the most part.

All this area of the structure, she had seen. She was looking for something different, something new. Finally she was deep enough into the halls that the layout started to appear unfamiliar. She came upon a row of heavy wooden doors, and she couldn't resist trying one of them.

There was nothing exciting in the room, exactly. It was rather dusty and the only furniture was a stiff looking chair and a table covered in books. All the same, it was different, and so she shut the door quietly after her dragon had entered and went over to the table.

Kiran perched on the chair and touched one of the books. It had a worn cover made of leather, and some of its pages were coming loose. She picked it up gingerly and split it open to a random page.

She could read, yes, but not very fast. These words were written small, and her eyes had never seen many of them. But there were names, and, with Murtagh constantly reminding her to find a name for the dragon, that was a good thing. They were of dragons and humans and dwarves and elves, but all names.

"Iorielle," she whispered. The dragon snorted. "No?"

Whenever she found names, she said them. And her dragon showed no approval.

"Siosae? Dyfina?" With the hundredth disgruntled noise from the dragon, Kiran was getting angry. "You need a name, you know. Choose one soon. It'll be easier for both of us. Asteria? Edadana?"

There was a pause. _Asteria. _

"It only took you an hour," Kiran muttered.

But, inside, she was happy.

Then she could hear steps down the corridor, and she froze.

As quickly and silently as she could manage, she shut the book and placed it on top of the others. She stood.

The door opened, and Murtagh was there. "Exploring, I see. When did I ever say you were permitted to do so?"

Kiran paused. She wondered what the right answer was. "You ... you never said it wasn't. I don't recall you giving me any instructions whatsoever."

"Fair enough. But I hope you weren't touching those books. They're quite old."

She closed her mouth and glanced at Asteria.

"It figures."

Silence hung in the air awkwardly, and she finally found something to say. "I found a name for my dragon from the first one. She's called Asteria."

"It is about time." The Kingkiller paused. "That is a worthy name, of an elvish dröttningu. A daughter of a queen."

"As for that fruit – there is no reason you need to steal here."

She frowned.

How in the world did he know?


	10. Stenr Reisa

_**A/N:**__ You know what? I suck. It's taken me way too long to update, and I apologize for that. But here's your update, at least 90% overdue. So sorry, guys._

_Mr. Paolini is the one with lots of money and an amazing mind. I'm just a person who wishes I had that mind. And maybe a little of that money. That's why it's fanfiction._

_EDIT - Used the wrong spell because I was half asleep. Talk about epic fail. Thanks to silverhawk88 for telling me._

* * *

**Chapter 10 ~ Stenr Reisa**

Kiran snarled at the rock.

"Damn, blasted, idiotic, dragon-eating–"

_Dragon-eating?_

Asteria sounded amused, which was infuriating. Kiran growled at her. "I don't know. Just be quiet." At the moment, she was wondering what in all the world she did know.

Murtagh had explained to her a few days previous about the ancient language. It made no sense to her at all, but he had given her a rock and told her not to talk to him until she could show him she could raise it without touching it. He had not given instructions, but a demonstration; he had said, "_Stenr reisa_ very quiet and precise.

Kiran had said that enough times that her tongue now stumbled over the relatively easy pronunciation, but the rock still would not move. She had taken to cursing at it in random intervals. It blew off some steam, mayhap, but it didn't move that rock.

And all Asteria did was sit there and watch her with maddening superiority.

The dragon was all of two feet long.

"Stenr reisa," Kiran hissed again. "You blasted thing - stenr reisa!"_  
_

Asteria snorted.

"If you're such an expert, why don't you do it for me?" the girl snapped, dropping the rock. She had enough. More than enough, really. Maybe she couldn't do it at all; Murtagh had said that some people –most, even– could not use the ancient language. He had quickly followed that with saying that a dragon knew who could and who couldn't, and so she would not be a Rider now if she wasn't capable.

_Mayhap Asteria is just a stupid dragon_, Kiran thought to herself, making sure the dragon in question did not here.

Asteria pranced over and looked at the rock. She didn't say anything, at least nothing that she projected to Kiran. The rock levitated.

Kiran scowled.

Her dragon that was less than two weeks old could do what she could not.

But now she was determined; now she had opposition. She pushed her hair back and snatched the rock out of the air, staring at it like Asteria had. _"STENR REISA!_"

The stone shot up with frightening speed and hit the stone ceiling..

Kiran regarded Asteria smugly. "How's that?"

_Accidental._

Kiran's smugness was instantly snuffed out. She sighed.

_That is not necessarily bad; at least you did it. Now you can talk to Murtagh again._

She still had not gotten over the fact that she was talking with an infant.

**xxxxxx**

Murtagh leaned against a wall, watching the younger Rider and dragon pair interestedly. If anything could be said for them, they were more amusing than Thorn. His own dragon laid in the extra-wide hallway, apparently sleeping.

"You said you could do it," Murtagh prompted after a while. He certainly hoped Kiran could. He had raised the rock on his first try; it was the most elementary spell in the ancient language. It had taken Kiran two days to master it, if she even had.

"I can," the girl responded, her brow furrowed.

_It worked in the other room,_her dragon said, coiling around her ankles.

"How many times?"

_Once. But the rock hit the ceiling, if that makes any difference._

"It does." He just wasn't sure whether that difference was positive or negative. She had to overexert the language to the point where more force than needed was used; it seemed she could not perform simple tasks. Or at least, did not know how to.

He watched her swear wordlessly at the stone.

"Clear your mind," Murtagh said. "Don't be angry; don't be hopeful. Act like you need to raise the rock and you have all the time in the world to do it." She practically did; she was a Rider. Murtagh remembered how Galbatorix had taught him, with sheer force and orders to do it or he would be punished. He'd always managed to, but on accident. Maybe that was the girl's problem; she was afraid of what would happen if she didn't. What she needed was the assurance that she was in no hurry, that she could take her tim.e

Kiran's face was taught with the concentration, but he could see she had stopped swearing.

He heard her whisper the words. Nothing happened, and it disappointed him a little. "Remember, just be calm. Patient. There is no rush."

_"Stenr reisa,_" she said, just a little louder this time.

The rock rose a few inches into the air.

"There you go," Murtagh said without emotion, not wanting to show the relief and excitement he was feeling.

At his words, the stone twitched and fell back into her palm.

But she was smiling, and truly, for what seemed to be the first time he had seen. She was watching him almost expectantly, and he wondered what he was supposed to say.

"You did well," he told her, a little gruff. "Now go practice that."

**xxxxxx**

"Did you hear him?" Kiran demanded of her dragon. "Did you?" But she kept her voice low so that 'he' would not hear.

Asteria made no comment.

"_'Now practice it,_'" she mimicked with venom. "But I did it!"

_The question is,_ Asteria said placidly,_ could you do it again?_

That shut Kiran up, and she resolved to swear at the rock again. She jumped when she heard her dragon's mind voice.

_Why don't you try?_

So Kiran looked at the rock, and tried to clear her mind like Murtagh had said. It was harder this time, maybe because now she knew she could do it, and properly, too. But finally, after she'd said it a few more times, the rock rose. She let it drop, by stopping her concentration. Then she said it again.

When she had risen the rock at least twenty times without a large interval between them, she told Asteria to come and they went to Murtagh.

"I did it," she said.

"Let me see."

She showed him, raising the rock almost instantly. It felt good to know she could actually do it. She almost wished Murtagh would give her some sort of praise, but he was grim as always. He stood with folded arms and regarded her for a few moments before saying, "Now we get to move on."

Kiran fought the urge to complain.

"We can take a break from the language, I suppose. There are other parts of being a Rider. Thorn will take Asteria, and try to teach her something of use. She's still quite small, but she can learn basic flight patterns at this point. Gods know he'll be a useless teacher, but he's all we've–"

Thorn blew a breath so strong at Murtagh it made him stagger back. Kiran laughed.

Murtagh acted as if it had never happened and continued. "–he's all we've got.." There was a pause.

_Come on, you little thing_, Thorn said good-naturedly.

Asteria ambled after him, and when they were gone, Murtagh had Kiran's full attention. "A Rider sometimes needs to fight." He laughed. "A decade ago, and in the century before that, it was even more of a necessity. Fighting was constant."

Murtagh began to walk down a hallway and Kiran hurried to catch up to him. He brought her down a mess of hallways to a huge room. Inside it were a few books, a lot of old armor, and two wooden swords. They looked heavy. He took both of them by the hilt and gave her one.

"A sword is a Rider's secondary weapon," he began.

_Oh, this should be much more interesting_, she thought.


	11. Out of the Question

_**A/N: **__ And so the plot picks up. Hope you like the new chapter! And, pst, reviews make me happy. Coughcough. _

_Nope, the copyright to the Inheritance Cycle still hasn't expired, so I can't claim to own this. _

* * *

**Chapter Eleven ~ Out of the Question**

"If I so much as pushed you while you were standing like that, let alone tried to cut you with a sword, you'd fall over. Keep your feet apart."

Kiran sighed but did as Murtagh said. It had been ten minutes and all he'd done was work on her stance. She was about ready to ignore everything and see how well he'd hold up against an unexpected wooden sword to the chest.

"The grip is too short for you to hold with both hands. This sword is meant for a shield. Use only one hand."

She removed her right hand.

"Left-handed? All right. Now." Murtagh paused. "Don't let me kill you."

He rearranged his grip on his feaux weapon, and without thinking, Kiran scurried back. She had never run into fights; she ran away from them.

Murtagh reached her anyways. He cut at her with the sword, but she ducked, coming behind him. She dropped the wooden sword, finding it more of a hindrance than anything else. He turned and took another swipe at her, which she blocked with her arm. It hurt like hell, but not enough to stop her. Then she did what she would have done on the streets of Teirm.

Kiran kicked him in the stomach as hard as she could, and when he stumbled, pounced on him. She clawed at his face and then kicked him again. He dropped his sword.

Grinning, she let him up.

"Tell me," Murtagh said, rubbing at his face, "would that have worked fifty feet in the air? Or if I had a true Rider's sword?"

"No," Kiran said slowly.

"Exactly."

**xxxxxx**

Kiran couldn't keep track of the time; it could have been weeks, or months, or maybe days. She just knew that it was long enough for Asteria to grow to about her height, and was as long as she was tall excluding her tail. Through those hours, however many they were, they learned.

Murtagh taught her more of the ancient language, until she could translate a few sentences from the books and could conduct a crude conversation with him in it. Of course, that was all the more difficult because she couldn't lie in the language. He showed her more spells, ones that were a thousand times more difficult than _Stenr reisa_. She barely remembered sleeping and eating in the midst of all of this.

And now it seemed her sword arm was constantly sore. Once she found the disadvantages to not using a sword, Murtagh had taught her the proper way to use it. Her movements were clumsy and weak, but she knew the theory. Murtagh landed ten times as many blows as she did, but usually he stopped them just before they touched her so there would be no bruises. The soreness in her arm came from blocking and parrying, which prevented her from getting her arm sliced off but could never by any means save her from pain altogether.

Asteria went off with Thorn to learn who-knew-what every day. Probably just playing around. The young dragon was becoming easier to be around, and Kiran's previous grudge to her was slowly fading away. She was becoming accustomed to the idea of being a Rider. Sometimes, she almost liked it.

She was sitting on the grass outside the structure with Asteria in a rare period of freedom._ I wish we could have whole days like this_, she thought to the young dragon.

_You're not alone. _

_Time's up, little ones_. Thorn's voice came as a surprise to both of them. They jumped. _Asteria, let's go. Kiran, I assume Murtagh is waiting. _

The dragons left, leaving Kiran to sigh and look at the sky one last time before going back inside. Instead of finding Murtagh waiting for her, she didn't see him anywhere. She went down the hall, stopping to look in each room. In the very last one, she heard his voice, and glanced inside.

"That's out of the question. I killed their king."

He was standing in front of a basin of water, talking into it like that night by the lake where he had contacted the Rider Eragon. Kiran hid herself behind the wall but still listened, unable to quell her curiosity.

"I understand the dangers, Murtagh. That is why I do not ask this lightly. However, you must. Eragon cannot leave his students. You have one; surely she can come?" It was a woman's voice, low and rich. Kiran wished she could see who Murtagh was talking to.

"If they'd kill me, they'd kill her, too. She is associated me. She may be innocent, but do you presume they will care? No. She doesn't know enough of the language or fighting to defend herself. She has never even ridden her dragon-it's barely large enough to carry a Rider. I cannot leave her, either."

"They need a Rider; Surda managed to get their hands on one, the gods know how. The dwarves do need someone who can fight the Rider for them. Eragon has students. Queen Arya has a country, an entire race to lead. That leaves you. If Surda-"

"The dwarves will not accept my help, Your Majesty, or that of any Rider. They are proud. Surely they believe they can defend themselves, and I agree with them in that regard."

Kiran imagined the woman's frustrated expression. Murtagh had called her Majesty-was he speaking with the Queen?

"Surda is becoming ever stronger. The dwarves are close. They are unwilling to prepare for battle because they have no signs. But I know Orrin, and I know his ways. Perhaps I am jumping to conclusions, but I should hate to lose an ally or his life because of caution." The woman, the Queen, paused. "I ask now not as the Queen but as Nasuada, Murtagh. Remember Uru'baen? I do. Please, for me; I expect you to leave for the Beors by the end of the week."

There was silence then, and Kiran assumed that Nasuada had cut off her side of the spell. So it had been the Queen, after all.

"It appears I don't need to explain the reason why we will be training hard for the next few days," Murtagh said, and Kiran jumped.

"I-"

"I know you were listening, and it's better off like that. Come. We'd better show you what it's like to ride your dragon. Such knowledge might be needed."

They were going to the Beors within the week!

Kiran followed him happily back outside.


	12. An Announcement

**Sorry, guys.**

****I know I haven't posted in forever, and I'm not proud of it. But inspiration for this story has left me, and a lot of time has, as well. As of now, this story is on an indefinite hiatus. I might update when something hits me, I might not. I'd just feel bad if I left you hanging without telling you this.

I apologize.

~Kay


End file.
